


Soulmates? Not Great.

by Onlymostydead



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe GTA, Alternate Universe Soulmates, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Fake AH Crew, Genderfluid Michael, Implied Sexual Content, Other, Smoking, gender non-confirming Jack, no actual nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onlymostydead/pseuds/Onlymostydead
Summary: Geoff Ramey was a man who those who knew him would call a dreamer.Of course, it didn't help that he had so much to dream about.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually pretty proud of this.   
> Yes, it's a soulmate au- the premise will be described in the fic.

Geoff Ramsey was a man who those who knew him would call a dreamer. He could claim that he couldn't help it all he wanted, but that one fact remained- Geoff was simply that. A man who loved to dream, and perhaps a bit too much. He was always caught up in his own fantasies, so much so he lost sight of that which was directly ahead.   
Of course, it didn't help that he had so much to dream about.   
You see, everyone has a soulmate. Whether platonic, romantic, or purely sexual- everyone has a soulmate. That was just a fact of life.

When Geoff pressed his eyes shut he could always see Michael's ever familiar face- his bright, genuine smile stretching his full, pink lips. His brown eyes shining behind his thin, wire-rimmed glasses. Freckles kiss every bit of visible skin, a mop of curly, coppery hair framing his pale face. He's beautiful- and not just because he's his soulmate and everyone thinks of their soulmate as perfect. He was something special and he knew that.  
Geoff can't remember when exactly he started to be able to see Michael in his head, only that he had been there as long as he could remember. Most people were like that. They only knew what their soulmate would look like at the age they first met, their name, and their pronouns- almost from birth.  
With a soulmate like that Geoff insisted that he couldn't help but daydream- thinking of every little thing he could make up about his Michael. It helped to pass the time until they met, after all, which Geoff grew ever more anxious about. When he was younger he thought nothing of it, but now Michael was starting to look younger and younger in his eyes. The kid couldn't be older than twenty, putting Geoff over ten years older, and getting more so with each passing day that they didn't meet. It wasn't that uncommon for age gaps, but still...

He liked to think of Michael instead- what he might like to do, what his personality was like, what that beautiful laugh must actually sound like in reality- all in theory, but that never made it less vivid. The ideas of what his soulmate could possibly be like kept him going, fueled by little questions and wondering a about what his future love would be like.  
His favorite color was yellow, and while Geoff didn't know why it just felt right when looking at him. He came across as a dog person, too. Geoff didn't think he would smoke- he looked too smart to get into a shit habit like that. He probably didn't drink much either, but that was figured more in the way of one of them needing to be the sober one in the relationship. Just judging by his face Michael was probably a bit chubby- maybe a little insecure about that. His freckled cheeks implied that he liked the outdoors- Geoff could imagine taking them out, just the two of them, up to Mount Chiliad, or to the Pier. He would look so pretty- the sun catching the red in his hair.  
He looked like he liked reading- and even though Geoff didn't read a lot he would listen to that smooth, beautiful voice forever. Watching those pretty, pink lips...

"Zoning out again, huh?" Jack laughed, ruffling Geoff's already sleep-missed hair. "Thinking about him again?"

Jack, as Geoff's best friend and second-in-command, was well used to his day dreaming. Geoff often would rant about how amazing Michael seemed- and almost endlessly at that. Thankfully Jack quickly adapted to being able to tune him out.

Geoff gave a non-committal nod. 

"Don't worry- it'll happen eventually." They chuckled lightly.

"I know, I know." Geoff grumbled, although he was laughing along with Jack.

He only hoped it would be soon- after all, life-spans didn't tend to be too long in Los Santos.

Regardless of all that he could see them growing old together, those beautiful brown curls fading to gray, little crinkles around his joyful eyes. He could see them living together peacefully- no longer needing to live in crime to survive. They would get far away from the city, settle down in some quaint little house in a little town nobody knew the name of- completely off the records. Alone together until the end.

Geoff smiled to himself. Even then his Michael would be beautiful.

***

Michael Jones was not a good man. Then again, who was in this city? Hell, a better question was who could afford to be.  
Los Santos wasn't kind to anyone, and that was obvious enough just by looking at him. Bruises littered his body, a poorly concealed black eye and chapped and split lips seemed to always mark his face.  
He lifts a cigarette to those lips now- exhaling the smoke and taking in the calm that comes with it.  
Of course- the marks are well worth it. Fighting may not pay a whole lot better, or even as well as fucking, but it was far better. It felt cleaner- closer to freedom. He'd take having bruises from punches on his body over having fingerprints from greasy customers imprinted on his hips any day.

He finished off his cigarette, crushing the butt under the heel of his black work shoes. Working waiting tables wasn't exactly what most people expected of him, but some steady income was better than none. Plus- it was a good excuse for having enough money to survive on.  
Of course, that's just for now.  
He can see his soulmate as plain as day- more vivid with the nicotine running through his system. Almost sleepy blue eyes with dark, heavy lashes and deeply etched bags beneath them. A neatly curled and waxed mustache sits beneath his slightly crooked nose, his dark brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. A bit of a five o'clock shadow covers his chin.  
Geoff Ramsey.  
Of course, if it weren't for the man's infamous nature Michael would only know him as Geoffrey- but everyone in the city knew that name. They spoke in in damned whispers, shuttering voices spreading rumors of his fortune.  
The boss of the Fake Ah- reckless, ruthless, and without a care in the world.  
He shakes those thoughts from his mind- they never went good places. Because Geoff's gaze looked like whiskey and lust- large hands and sloppy, wet kisses filled with passion. He looked like security, enough money to cover the bills and much more to spare on trivial things. Thinking of him was an escape from the brutal truth of reality- and Michael couldn't afford to live in a daydream.  
With a sigh he ducks back into the little dump of a restaurant to make sure Ray was coming- he had just needed to put a couple of things away before they left. Ray was a bartender at the same shitty little place he worked, and Michael and he lived close enough together that giving him a ride was no problem. That and Ray didn't drive- he didn't even know how.  
If Michael didn't know about the pink sniper rifle he would never have figured out how Ray survived in this damned city, let alone lived.  
Regardless, Ray and he go way back. Gavin too- but Gavin wouldn't be caught dead taking a closing shift like this. Of course, Michael wasn't complaining. If Gavin and Jeremy wanted to take the early morning hours Michael let them.

They're all damn lucky- Ray and Gavin are soulmates, along with another person they haven't met yet. Ray doesn't talk about that very often, though, and Michael doesn't pry.  
Jeremy practically grew up with his soulmates- Trevor and Matt. Not only had they all met young but they were all in the criminal life- something that didn't always happen in this hellhole.  
Michael wasn't going to have any trouble with that, though, he scoffed. Geoff was just about as crooked as you could get- and that's only if half the rumors about him are true.

Michael drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he drives, hearing but not listening to whatever the hell Ray was playing on the radio. The only thing he can see are those deep blue eyes, crinkled at the edges with a smile. He didn't want to be drawn to them like that- he didn't want that gaze to bring such parts of himself forward.  
What shit luck he had- likelihood was that he would die before he reached the age of twenty five.  
Geoff fucking Ramsey.   
He would have spat if he wasn't in his car. He settled instead for gripping the wheel tightly, and not letting go until he could feel his fingers aching.

***

Geoff wasn't a big fan of the delicate types of field work- undercover, and Intel- but he needed Info from a certain bartender that had been sighted with the Vagabond. It had been hard enough to track the guy down- after all, facial recognition software was only so good. Even Gus had trouble tracing the guy down to the hole in the wall Geoff was in now- which mean that Geoff double owed him. Damn, he needed a hacker of his own- owing Gus was getting really expensive.  
Geoff sighed and wiped his sweaty hands off on his jeans.  
It would have helped if Ray Narvaez Jr. had any records beyond high school. It was like he barely existed- all records of his existence were gone. At least Geoff was now sure that he did exist- the slip of a man skillfully serving drinks at the bar.  
He sauntered his way up there now.

"Hey, darlin', scotch on the rocks and a bit of your time?" Geoff finally ordered, sliding up onto one of the bar stools.

"I can get you a drink- can't sell you my time." Ray clipped back, pouring another patron's drink and sliding it over to them.

"Alright then- I can wait." Geoff replied, sipping his drink.

The bartender moved with a practiced sort of grace- an obvious air of nonchalance about him that almost made him invisible. The type of movement a thief or a double agent prided himself on- Geoff would bet a lot of money that this kid had more than connections with the Vagabond. He probably had a well-protected name somewhere in the city.

He stayed and waited for quite some time- until he was the only patron at the bar and Ray was putting glasses away. Geoff knew that it was getting late- later than the place was open. Damn, he hadn't wanted to stay so long. He had expected that there would be more of a lull in the amount of customers.  
Oh well, he had to work with what he had.

"So, can you spare me some of that time of yours now, darlin'?" Geoff's words were smoother than they were sloppy from the alcohol, his tone bordering on dark.

"Depends on what you need." Ray answered quickly, wiping off the bar.

"It's been going around that you've got some information that I need. So please, tell me- what do you know about the Vagabond?" Geoff asks, setting down his empty glass for emphases.

Ray froze for a full second, swallowing before he regained his wits and continued to tidy up.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He lied, his voice clear and calm.

This kid was good, Geoff thought to himself. If it weren't for his information and that little pause he would almost believe him. 

"Oh, I think you do, darlin.'" Geoff leaned forward. "I'm gonna ask again: what do you know about the Vagabond?"

Ray cocked his head to the side in faked confusion, his wide-eyed, innocent-looking face betraying nothing.

"Look, I don't watch much TV." He finally defended, wiping of a glass.

"That's the wrong answer, baby, and I really didn't want to have to threaten you like this." Geoff moved his hand to where his concealed handgun was, gambling that Ray would understand the gesture. "You seem smart- I'd hate to have to do anything... Unfortunate."

Ray obviously understood the movement- twitching nervously under Geoff's unrelenting gaze. He seemed to glance over to the other side of the restaurant repeatedly, as if trying to catch someone's attention. One of the servers, most likely. He didn't want to make a scene- but regardless he needed backup. Geoff understood that well enough. Kids this young always grouped together in crime- he probably had an accomplice as a coworker.

That guess seemed to be right, in fact. Over-emphasized footsteps clacked against the hard floor of the bar area, strutting up behind Geoff.

"This guy bothering you?" A voice said from behind him- gravelly but not very low, and with the tell-tale squeak of a Jersey accent.

Geoff half turned in his seat so he could see both of them, sure to keep his eyes on Ray.  
The other guy looked mean- a poorly concealed bruise covered the majority of the left side of his face- that eye was almost swollen shut. His other eye was brown and full of rage, matching the downturned frown on his chapped lips.

He obviously expected a fight- and Geoff had no plans to give that to him. He didn't need to cause more commotion than necessary.

Ray cast an urgent glance at the server, as if to tell him that Geoff had a gun. He seemed to take no notice of the warning- instead getting closer to him.

"Come on, we're closed- it's past midnight." He said tersely, gesturing to the door.

"I was just having a, private, conversation with your friend here." Geoff insisted, earning an eye roll. 

"He's not buying whatever you're trying to sell, He doesn't know what you think he does, and he's certainly not looking for a night with the likes of you. Goodnight." The server certainly looked ready to enforce Geoff's leaving- and Geoff didn't doubt that.

Obviously his disguise was pretty good- they wouldn't be giving him nearly that much lip if they knew who he was. That backfired on the other hand, however. Intimidating someone was much more difficult if they didn't know that he could back up his claims.

Geoff swore that he heard the waiter telling him to 'Go fuck yourself' on his way out.

"Damn kids," he muttered, making his way over to his car.

***

"So what'd he want?" Michael asked Ray, hopping up onto the seat Geoff had previously occupied.

It was still slightly warm, and the smell of cigars lingered in the air.

"He wanted info on the Vagabond." Ray told, picking up Geoff's glass.

Michael paused, studying the expression on Ray's face.

"'S that the guy who's been trailing you? Creepy one with the mask?" Michael questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but we're partnering on jobs now. Their's something about them... I don't know. Never mind." Ray muttered, cleaning off the glass.

They stood silently for a few seconds, just staring at each other in awkward acknowledgment.  
Michael broke first, bursting out laughing.

"Man, I am fucked." He blurted out.

"First time meeting your soulmate- you tell him to go fuck himself." Ray added, laughing equally as hard.

"He's Geoff fucking Ramsey- he's gotta be used to it by now. Plus- he didn't even fucking recognize me. Things would have been different if he had." Michael chuckled.

They laughed like that for a while- hard enough that Ray had to set down the glass for fear that he would drop it.

"Your face IS all swollen up, you know." Ray reminded him when they had finished laughing. "Might make you a little harder to recognize."

"Yeah, there's that. Now let's get all this cleaned up- I wanna get home before one." Michael said, heading to the back.

He was more than disappointed that Geoff hadn't recognized him, but he knew another chance would come up soon. It's not like you only meet your soulmate once.

***

Geoff cursed his luck at that bar as he wormed his way through the chanting crowd. The smell of sweat, blood, and smoke hung in the air, as heavy as the atmosphere in the repurposed warehouse.  
At the center of the crowd would be the ring, a spray-painted circle where all the action was, if Geoff could get to it. The ring was certainly the hardest place to reach through the mass of people.  
He could hear heavy breathing now, though, and the sound of fists finding their mark.  
He knew exactly who was fighting- that's why he was here, after all. Even if he couldn't get the Vagabond he needed a guy- and one with a winning streak a mile wide who fought only by the name of Mogar would have to do. He hadn't lost a fight yet, in Los Santos at least, and he was becoming a fast favorite on the streets. He played up as somewhat of an underdog, and people always liked that.  
Tonight he fought against some guy named Junior- a humorous name for such a large man. They had looked quite comical next to each other before the fight- Junior well over a foot taller than Mogar.  
They didn't look so comical now.  
Mogar's skill was obvious- using his smaller size to his advantage as he easily maneuvered around Junior's more heavy, sluggish punches. Every single one of his own hits landed, doing more damage than one would think they could. Perhaps the outcome hadn't always seemed so obvious, however- Mogar's nose and lip were bleeding quite profusely. The blood dripped down onto his chest, mingling with the sweat there and trickling downward.  
Regardless, it didn't take very long for Junior to go down- Mogar raising his arms and letting loose a triumphant yell.  
He was no Vagabond, but he'd do fine.

***

"Good job out there, kid." Geoff said, approaching Mogar.

Mogar took a single glance up at him, paused for a moment, and went back to counting his stack of bloody money.

"What d'you want?" He growled, still not bothering to face him.

"I'm looking to hire you for a job- simple robbery deal, I just need another man." Geoff explained.

"So you need me for a heist?" Mogar looked unimpressed, but kept glancing at Geoff.

Geoff decided to take that as interest.

"Yeah, pretty much. If all goes according to plan it should be smooth, in and out, no risk of injury." Geoff confirmed.

Mogar snorted.

"How much of a cut would I be getting?" He stuffed his stack of money into the pocket of his jacket.

"One-fifth." Geoff stated.

"Fifth? The Fakes are running on that few these days?" Mogar's wolffish grin was unsettlingly familiar, but Geoff payed it no mind.

Crooked smiles were nothing if not common in Los Santos.

"So it seems. You in?" Geoff asked.

"Alright- fine, I'm in. When'll it be?" Mogar grunted.

"I'll contact you." Geoff said, a smirk on his face as he left the warehouse.

***

The heist goes well- almost too well against the odds and how few men they had. It was well worth hiring Mogar- and despite his crass, obnoxious behavior Geoff quickly grew rather fond of him. It was almost endearing in an odd sense.  
Mogar, however, seemed to hold him with a strange regard at first- almost standoffish. Over time he had warmed up, heist after heist, through thick and thin.  
Still though, there was something Geoff couldn't place between them. Maybe it was the way Mogar always looked at him like a question and he had no clue why, or the way his eyes always found themselves trailing over his body.  
He felt almost bad about it, but so often he found himself thinking of his Michael as he stared at Mogar; those wide hips and strong thighs, the way his stomach just peeped out from under his shirts...  
Damn it, Geoff shook those thoughts out of his head, but still the images of those lips remained, taunting him.  
He bet Michael would look great in red lipstick- those full lips painted dark and shiny. He would smile that still-innocent smile and give that little laugh Geoff could practically hear in his head. He but he would look amazing all dressed up- in expensive dresses Geoff would buy him, or in a nice suit. All dressed up for him...

"Hey! What're you staring at?" Mogar interrupted his thoughts, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Nothing! Nothing," Geoff lies, turning to hide his shame and the flush of his cheeks.

***

Geoff hates undercover work, so it's no surprise that Michael is sent to the creepy, run down club they need information from. He was relieved to have someone else to send- plus, Michael seemed pretty capable of blending in at gross clubs. Something about the kid was at ease there. Geoff had no idea why- nor did he think that he wanted to know.  
Still, as Mogar got ready Geoff's eyes were glued to him. His blood red dress showed off more skin than was really very decent- the low neckline and short length showing off more smooth, freckled skin that Geoff wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over. He looked irresistible- those thighs rubbing together in that little dress, the fabric just concealing him. Geoff could just imagine his hands touching all over that- pulling him into his lap... His red lipstick smeared from kissing...  
Geoff shook the image of his Michael's flushed face out of his head, shocked to find that Mogar looked too damn similar. Weird similarities, he thought to himself.

"C'mon, old man. Are you taking me there or what?" Mogar said impatiently, adjusting the clasp on his necklace.

"Yeah, you ready?" Geoff asked, reaching for his car keys.

"Yep. Let's go." Mogar replied, strutting to the door.

***

Geoff knew something had gone wrong as soon as he got a text.

(Mogar) I got the Intel- but there are some guys in here and they're not taking no for an answer.

(Mogar) I don't want to make a scene- come get me.

(Mogar) I'm hiding in the girls bathroom.

All three were sent in rapid succession- barely giving him a chance to read through them before the next was sent.  
Geoff grumbled out of the car and headed inside, paying the bouncer no mind. There were no doubts in anyone's minds that he was legal.  
Inside was more troublesome, however. Drunken people tripped and danced over each other, practically fucking on the dance floor and off. He was fairly sure a few people actually were.   
Weaving his way through the crowd Geoff tried his best not to look suspicious- he was glad that he had removed his suit jacket, but the tie still stood out against the sleazy, informal attire. With much difficulty and someone's drink spilled on his sleeve he finally made it over to the ladies room.

(Geoff) I'm outside the bathroom.

While he waited for Mogar, Geoff scanned the crowd for the guys he had talked about- hoping they wouldn't offer any further trouble. Sure enough a group of drunk losers slunk around- spaced from the bar all the way over to near Geoff. They wouldn't have been obvious if their eyes weren't trained on the bathroom door. They blocked off all exits, Geoff noted. Disgusting.

Mogar emerged a moment later, sure to spot Geoff before he left the safety of the bathroom. Almost instantly he attached himself to his arm, giving a light laugh to try to disguise the the tension.  
Squeezing Geoff's arm a little tighter he leaned in, eyes heavily lidded and breath smelling a bit of alcohol. He licked his lips and grinned deviously.

"Come on, Daddy, let's dance." He practically whined, dragging him toward the dance floor.

Caught off guard Geoff let himself be pulled into the sweaty mass of dancing people once more. Sure, he understood what Mogar was doing, but that didn't make it any more pleasant. People moved all around them- pushing, pulling and grinding on everything they could touch. The constant bumping and jostling pressed him all the way up against Mogar, their bodies flush.  
Okay, maybe that made it a bit more pleasant.  
Mogar's eyes are only half open, his grin that irresistible mixture of sensual and evil, his brown eyes filled with liquid fire.   
Geoff is struck with the realization that he knows that face- hell, he's been seeing it every day every time he closes his eyes since he can remember. He licks his damned lips again and Geoff can't help the little whine that escapes his own lips. He hopes Mogar- no, Michael didn't hear it over the pounding music.

"Let's get out of here, Daddy." Michael whispers to him, his voice high and squeaking with that damnable Jersey accent.

It had to have been loud for Geoff to hear it in this gosh-awful club- but he couldn't bring himself to care as all his thoughts are still hooked on Michael. He can practically feel his heartbeat against his chest- beating strong and in time with his own. Now they're stumbling for the exit, pushing through the drunken crowd. They would have been separated if not for Michael's firm grasp ahold of Geoff's tie- leading him to the door.

 

Only when they get to the car does Mogar- Michael, drop the act, slumping down into his chair.

"Fuck." He huffed, clearly annoyed.

They sat silently for a moment or two, before Geoff cleared his throat.

"How long have you known?" Geoff asked, his voice wobbly.

"Known what?" Michael started. "About your daddy kink? Let me tell you, that shit's obvious-"

"No!" He interrupted. "That we're, well, you know.." Geoff trailed off, awkwardly staring at his tie.

"Soulmates?" Finished Michael.

"Yeah." Geoff said, rubbing his neck.

He thought for a moment about that, twirling a finger in his hair.

"Since that night at the bar where you threatened my best friend." Michael admitted, grinning at the growing flush on Geoff's face.

Geoff remembered that- the one shady bar with the nervous barkeep and the pissed off waiter. That had been months ago now. Of course that had to be Michael- Mogar, whoever the hell he was. His soulmate.

"Fuck." He breathed, turning the keys in the ignition.

They drove in silence, Michael tapping his fingers against his leg until they got back to the penthouse. 

"Fuck this." Michael practically spat.

Pulling himself out of his seat Michael ducked down into Geoff's lap. His dress was now hiked up far higher than was decent, pushed by his thighs which now straddled Geoff's. His red lipstick was smeared ever so slightly, dark lashes fluttering.  
Geoff was the one who went in for the kiss, placing his hands on Michael's hips and pulling him closer. 

The moment their lips touched all of Geoff's thoughts and fantasies paled in comparison, lost in his touch. But Geoff didn't think of that- he only held Michael closer.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at Supertinydom!  
> Comments are love <3


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